Tonight, we tipped the scales.
The ones hidden between our emotions.
the ones embossed in our actions.
Weighted more or less with each choice of word or sliding of our hands;
Sometimes we longed to push them to see how far they'd go without tipping.
Sometimes we expected nothing,
but often times we saw that the wager made, out weighed itself so that the price of humility was more than enough to pay for the price of romance.
A brush of your hand against my arm, my voice hanging on the rim of your ear.
the smile of your face as I rubbed my thumb against your tear.
With each new dare we gave ourselves, we found ourselves out numbered by the emotions we bare.
Love, desire, a sense of passion cooled by blankets that serves as feudal resistance to the inferno inside, because the war we waged could turn a nuclear winter into a spring day.
the only price to pay was for a somatic spell.
sparing no time, knowing our conscious is guilty of our crime
we said it
nothing sounded more decadent
Than the thought that tonight we decided.
Lets change this.